Draven finally looked toward the pilot.
"Get up."
The pilot blinked slowly from the control chair.
"…What?"
His exhausted mind struggled to process the sentence properly.
Get up?
That wasn't how piloting worked.
He stared at Draven in visible confusion.
"I'm tired," he admitted weakly, "but I'm still the one flying the ship."
He gestured vaguely toward the surrounding control arrays with one trembling hand.
"If I stop controlling it, doesn't the entire fortress just fall out of the sky?"
Draven said nothing.
He simply walked forward.
Calm.
Unhurried.
Then suddenly—
he moved.
The pilot's eyes widened.
One second, Draven stood several steps away—
the next—
a hand grabbed him by the front of his coat.
A violent chill shot through the pilot's entire body instantly.
Cold.
Not temperature.
Instinct.
Predator.
Before he could even react, Draven lifted him completely out of the chair with one arm.
Effortlessly.
The pilot stared blankly for half a second as his exhausted brain failed to catch up with reality.
Then—
he was dropped off to the side.
Not violently.
But definitely not gently either.
"Ghk—"
He hit the floor awkwardly with a grunt while the control chair spun slightly.
At that exact moment—
the ship tilted.
A deep metallic groan echoed throughout the vessel as the massive fortress listed sideways from the sudden lapse in control.
Warning sigils flashed across the chamber.
The pilot's eyes widened.
"Oh, that's bad—"
Then immediately—
the ship stabilized.
Smoothly.
Cleanly.
The warning lights faded almost as quickly as they had appeared.
Silence settled once more, broken only by the low hum of mana flowing through the vessel.
The pilot froze.
Slowly—
his gaze lifted.
Draven now sat in the primary control chair.
One hand rested casually against the central mana interface while glowing control sigils rotated calmly around him.
The ship obeyed him effortlessly.
The pilot stared.
"…What."
Draven's eyes remained on the floating navigation displays.
"You have twelve hours," he said flatly.
"Sleep."
A pause.
"Then return to work."
The pilot continued staring at him from the floor for several long seconds.
His exhausted mind attempted to question at least twelve different things simultaneously and failed at all of them.
Eventually—
his body gave up first.
"…Alright," he muttered weakly.
He rolled slightly onto his back.
"Then I'll go right ahead."
And immediately closed his eyes.
The cultist blinked once.
Then looked down at him.
"What are you doing?"
The pilot answered without opening his eyes.
"Sleeping."
"You are going to sleep there?"
"Yeah."
His voice already sounded half unconscious.
"Every second counts."
A weak gesture toward the hallway.
"So I'm not wasting energy trying to walk to a room."
The cultist stared at him silently.
Then slowly looked toward Draven, as though trying to determine whether this behavior was normal among humans.
The black cat atop Draven's head flicked one eye toward the unconscious pilot.
Then closed it again.
A moment passed.
Then the control deck doors suddenly slid open with a sharp mechanical hiss.
"What the hell do you think you're doing?!"
Aldric's voice cut through the room immediately.
"Are you trying to crash the damn ship?"
He floated in without bothering to walk, one hand holding a bottle while a wooden crate of alcohol drifted lazily behind him under the control of his mana.
Kaelira followed close behind him.
Her ears twitched slightly as she glanced around the room.
"What happened?" she asked.
"The whole ship suddenly tilted."
Aldric ignored her completely.
His crimson eyes had already locked onto the scene inside the control deck—Draven now flying the ship while the pilot lay unconscious on the floor.
Silence lingered for exactly one second.
Then Aldric slowly floated toward the control platform.
"…So the bastard's sleeping."
His expression twisted with visible disappointment.
"I was hoping I'd be the one to turn him into a vampire."
The pilot, somehow still half awake through pure survival instinct, groaned weakly from the floor without opening his eyes.
"…Please don't say things like that near me."
"No."
Aldric drifted closer toward the central controls where Draven sat calmly operating the ship.
The controls reflected faint blue light across Draven's face while the fortress remained perfectly stable around them.
Aldric stared at him for a long moment.
Then took another drink.
"…And since when the hell did he learn how to fly a ship?"
Kaelira blinked.
Her gaze snapped toward Draven sitting in the pilot seat.
Then toward the mana controls surrounding him.
Then back toward Draven again.
"…Master?"
Aldric immediately turned toward her.
"Shut up, brat."
Kaelira frowned instantly.
"I wasn't even speaking to you."
"And yet I already knew it was going to annoy me."
"That makes you sound incredibly unhealthy."
Aldric ignored her again.
His eyes narrowed slightly while watching Draven casually control the fortress as though it were completely normal.
Nearby, the cultist stood silently with the wrapped artifact resting carefully in her arms.
The black cat atop Draven's head slowly lifted its head at the growing noise filling the room.
Its gaze moved toward Aldric.
Then toward the floating crate of alcohol beside him.
The cat stared for a moment.
Then slowly reached one paw toward one of the loosely drifting bottles near the top.
Aldric noticed immediately.
"…Touch my drink and I'll throw you out of the ship."
The cat blinked once.
Unimpressed.
Then placed its paw directly onto the bottle anyway.
A dangerous silence filled the room.
Kaelira looked nervously between them.
"…I feel like this situation is escalating in a very stupid direction."